


The price of loyalty

by valdomarx (cptxrogers)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24294913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptxrogers/pseuds/valdomarx
Summary: Jaskier was no stranger to pain. So when he thoughtby the gods, this cockatrice venom fucking hurt, know that he was not exaggerating for effect.Jaskier gets injured on a hunt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 728





	The price of loyalty

Jaskier was no stranger to pain. He’d been beaten up, kicked, and had dogs set on him enough times (thus was the life of a bard with a lot of love to give) that he was accustomed to ugly bruises and the sharp twinge of a cracked rib, the occasional twisted ankle or dislocated shoulder.

So when he thought _by the gods, this cockatrice venom fucking **hurt**_ , know that he was not exaggerating for effect, nor was he being overly delicate.

It was his fault, really, for insisting on accompanying Geralt on his hunt, and then for not staying where he was told to, hidden in a thicket at the bottom of the hill. He’d merely wanted a better view, and the cockatrice had looked so far away, circling the hilltop, its attention on Geralt who was haranguing it with his crossbow.

But cockatrices move _fast_ , as it turns out, and he’d barely stepped out of the trees before it had spied him and swooped low on powerful wings with astonishing speed, venomous claws outstretched. Jaskier had tried to scramble back to his hiding place but the last thing he remembered was the sound of Geralt yelling, trying to distract the creature, sounding uncharacteristically panicked. Then there had been a searing pain in his shoulder like he was being burned by a red-hot poker, and then nothing.

He’d come to slouched on Roach, Geralt holding him from behind and riding hard.

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice seemed very far away, even though it was right in his ear. “Back with me?”

As he came back to full consciousness, that was when the pain had started. It felt like the entire left side of his body was on fire, thousands of stinging needles jabbing under his skin in a coordinated torture.

He sucked in a breath and tried to steady his voice. “I’m awake,” he gasped out, though it took effort. By gods, it _really_ hurt, and tears welled in his eyes.

“Are you…” Geralt’s voice trailed off, an unfamiliar degree of uncertainty in it. “Are you alright?”

Jaskier would have laughed at that, because _pretty fucking clearly not_ , but he was too focused on the deep, brutal pain to be able to do so. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but then tears were running down his cheeks and his breath hiccuped and the pain was so bad he honestly thought this might be what dying felt like.

Geralt stiffened against him and rode harder.

–

Jaskier had only vague awareness of the next period of time - a hurried journey, his own voice crying out in anguish, an elven healer, some kind of foul-smelling salve being smothered over his shoulder. Mostly he was aware of the pain, vicious and unrelenting. And Geralt, always nearby, face pinched into an even deeper scowl than usual.

Finally, after what felt like days of torture but must in truth have been hours at most, the agony receded, lifting like the tide going out on the ocean shore. Discomfort remained, digging into his shoulder, but it was the familiar sort of pain of a body misused, not the screaming torment of before.

Now, he could breathe. Realisation of his surroundings filtered in slowly: a bed in a healer’s cottage, a poultice on his shoulder, Geralt sat at the bedside and gripping his hand where it lay on the sheets.

Jaskier looked down at their joined hands. That was odd.

“It’s my fault,” Geralt said, head bowed.

Jaskier blinked, slowly, still confused. “Whatdaya mean?”

“I should have been more careful,” Geralt looked away, guilt written over his features. “I should have been quicker. When I saw that beast going after you I…“ He broke off.

Jaskier was back to himself enough to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Trust Geralt to find some way to take the blame for Jaskier’s stupidity. “You told me to stay put, I didn’t. My fault. Seems simple enough to me.”

Geralt shook his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I let anything happen to you,” he said, quietly, like a confession.

Oh. That was rather sweet, in its way. But it did beg the question: “Then why do you let me travel with you?”

“Because I couldn’t live without you either.”

 _Oh_.

Geralt still wouldn’t look at him, so Jaskier squeezed his hand. He finally faced Jaskier and he looked ruined, with dark circles beneath his eyes and an expression of unrelenting misery on his face.

“I don’t regret it,” Jaskier said, firm and sure as he’d ever been about anything. “Well, I mean, I do somewhat regret my rash actions that lead us to this particular predicament, but I don’t regret travelling with you. I don’t regret having you in my life.” Geralt’s face went very still, the way it did when he was trying to conceal his emotions. “Because I couldn’t live without you either, you big oaf, and if a bit of cockatrice venom is the price of being your bard, then I pay it willingly.”

Geralt’s jaw tightened, an almost imperceptible movement, but Jaskier understood what it meant. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, flatly, like it was a simple fact about the world.

Jaskier softened. Geralt might have been taciturn and sour at times, but Jaskier knew his gentle heart and his well-hidden kindness. Now he knew that heart had room for him, as unlikely as that seemed. “My dear witcher, you deserve me and much more, and I’ll be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Geralt managed a lopsided smile. “And if I want you for good?”

That warmed something deep in his chest, deeper even than the pain. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”


End file.
